


Unsaid

by Shay_Nioum



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gore, M/M, Murder, Murderer Logan, intense gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Nioum/pseuds/Shay_Nioum
Summary: It isn't every day that Logan chooses to get his hands dirty, but when he does it's not only for a very good reason. It's the only reason.





	Unsaid

A soft humming filled the damp cold air of the basement, a sweet soft lullaby that was anything but that. 

Especially as the sharp glinting surface of the knife slipped into the soft delicate flesh of the human struggling right under it. For the longest moment that was all that there was, the muffled unheard howls of pain stifled only by a dusty dirty rag that he had found on the floor. Saliva and blood dampened it, as the scalpel was neatly set back down onto the gleaming tray that held an assortment of other tools, although his hands certainly weren’t empty for long. Not as he plucked the tweezers from the tray, experimentally tapping them together before he got to work, slowly peeling back the flesh. 

Under him, the body screamed and writhed around like a worm that was slowly being cooked under the desert sun through a magnifying glass. The man’s heart shuddered against the cool air, as soon as the protective layers of the skin and muscle had slowly and painstakingly been peeled and sliced away by a most professional hand. There was nothing but pain, that haze of it clung to the man’s mind like alcohol on a night out.

It was completely inescapable, they both knew that.

However, while one seemed absolutely delighted by the mere thought of it, the man strapped to the chair incapable of fleeing for his life or even moving outside of struggling and wiggling around. Found that the fear coursed through his veins like a red hot liquid, scorching every inch of his internal body like lava. How could this even happen to him? How could he..how could- 

"I need you to understand something before I kill you.” Logan sweetly crooned to the man who was vainly struggling against the bonds that held him tightly to the chair stopping his thoughts dead. A river of red soaked the cloth that had been jammed into his mouth in order to prevent his erratic and hysterical screams from waking everyone within the neighborhood. Tapping his hand against the man face as soon as his eyes started to get misty and drift away from reality, Logan squeezed tightly, the other’s internal organ making a sick squelching noise that only revitalized the muffled howls and moans of agony. “There we go, no drifting off just yet old man.” 

His slick blooded hand firmly grasped the man’s face, leaving behind a few vibrant streaks of crimson red in its wake. Like red paint that had been hazardously splattered across a canvas with little regard for the picture, it was supposed to be painting. A beautiful color if he was completely being honest, the most powerful color that had ever existed. The color of blood, the color of life, and the color of..him. 

The man before him gagged, and a sour stench made Logan’s nose curl in disgust as he drew back for a second, a look of revulsion quickly passed over his features before he quickly schooled his expression. He only needed a quick glance to know certain that not only had his unfortunate victim vomited, but that he was also choking on his own vomit as well. 

The mere sight and evidence of it filled Logan with a wild delight, that normally would have made his heart do somersaults in his chest. Normally, but there was no time for that just yet.

Especially as a smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips, and the man’s terrified gaze only clouded over with more and more tears the moment that Logan’s tiny innocent smile stretched across his face like a rubber band that was being pulled as far as it would go. His teeth glinted in the low lighting of the basement as his twisting contorting smile grew and grew, “You get it now don’t you? You finally understand it now.” He softly whispered, the hand that had been grasping the other’s face, now softening to slowly stroke the other’s cheek in a mock of affectionate tenderness that he wasn’t even capable of feeling for this man. It left behind streak after streak, allowing little rivets of red to drip down the man’s face like rain on a windowsill. His lips twitched for a moment, as his gaze narrowed sharply. “You know what its like to taste the foulness of yourself on your own tongue, and...you know what it’s like to choke on your own disgusting, putrifying-” The slick and slippery squelch interrupted his words, words that had honestly started as soft and sweet, spun like cotton candy at a fair. Just to turn into deep snarled words as Logan’s grip tightened to like that of a vice, as the blood that was like oil running thickly between his fingers gushed openly. 

His fingers harshly dug and clawed at the man’s internal organs, ripping and shredding anything that he could get his hands on. His lips curled in a sneer as his eyes darkened to the color of blackened and burnt flesh, and his fingers hooked onto the heartstrings of the frantically pumping heart that was little more than a metronome for their last moments together. Logan could see his lungs expanding and pushing out each gasp of air from where the peeled back skin and muscle revealed to him everything, the blood was pooling inside of him, internal bleeding that he’d probably recover from if he was at a hospital. Luckily for Logan, and unluckily for his victim...he had no intention of taking him to a hospital. 

Not in this life, or the next. 

His fingers snagged the strings of the heart, and it fluttered in his hand like a bird desperate to escape his grasp, and Logan’s teeth gnashed against one another. “You see,” Logan hissed out, his words like a burning fiery poison that killed everything in its wake, as the man’s squeals of pain fell on deaf ears. “I will never allow you to hurt and hunt him as you once did...this is your end, father.” 

His nails and fingers tore through the heartstrings like they were little more than paper through a shredder, the brittle things snapped all too easily, it was like plucking hairs from a brush. The last sound that his father ever made was the sharp squealing screams that sounded like they belonged to a fat overfed pig, muffled only by a dirty oily rag that belonged in the dirty dusty basement. Static roared in Logan’s ears as the warm wetness soaked his hands all the way up to elbows, he couldn’t exactly recall the very moment his father stopped squirming and screaming. Or the moment that his rapidly beating heart ceased to throb in his hands. 

Only that when the roar of static had left his ears and the haze of red had left his vision, he was absolutely covered in red. The front of his shirt was dripping with it, while from his elbows down a slick oily redness dripped from his fingers splattering against the cooling corpse of his father. 

“I…” The words lodged themselves in his throat, barring themselves from leaving like prisoners within a cage. He barely even noticed the warmth that rained down from his cheeks, or his own cracked and crazed smile widening. “I killed him. I killed him. I killed-” His words faltered within an instant, as he gazed down at his own hands that had so brutally crushed the pumping organ that had laid nestled within the open cavity before him. 

His father...his father whom he had killed in cold blood..his father who he had brutally tortured and then killed. His father...who had hurt the one he loved the most. 

Did that make him a monster? Surely it did, he’d lost himself to his own bloodlust, he’d destroyed the very man who had raised him, he’d taken pleasure in it, he’d...he’d loved every second of it. They arrested people like him, should he even be arrested? He’d broken a law, but for a good reason. He’d become...he’d become..a..a..

“Logan?” 

Upon hearing that voice, that smooth as melted chocolate voice, the voice that had whispered to him countless times over the days, weeks, and months that they had known each other. The voice, that when paired with the soft rosy red eyes that stared back at him, at him and his messy, disgusting, blood covered self. Only to find shock and horror dwelling within those eyes, a look that Logan couldn’t help but t agree with. Even he thought he was a monster too.

“Roman, I…” He couldn’t really explain, could he? There was nothing to explain, he was a monster, there was no denying that. “I..I…” The warm rush of tears trailed down his cheeks, as he stumbled back, only giving Roman an even greater view of the carnage he had brought about on the man who had raised him. “He was a...he..” The words twisted and tumbled around in his head, only coming out as jumbled misshapen words from his lips. 

_ A monster. A monster. A monster. A monster. A monster. A MONSTER. A MONSTER!  _

The voice in his head sounded all too similar to his dead father’s, and he was right wasn’t he? Logan had become a monster from the very second that he had let R-

“Oh my dearest fledgling,” Hands as cold as ice cupped his cheeks, and the thoughts that had whirled around in his head like a dizzying carousel going at top speed, came to a screeching halt as soon as he looked into those eyes. “What have you done?” 

A cold finger drifted across his cheek and it was then and only then that Logan recognized the look on Roman’s face, it was a look that he had oftentimes seen aimed at him in the rarest occasion. Pride, warmth, and...surely not love. There was nothing loveable about being a monster. But even so, there he was his thumb brushing away his tears, waiting for whatever answer would tumble out of Logan’s mouth. Good or bad. He always did have such patience, but then again, Roman had been dead for over three hundred years. So patience was a given at this point. 

Swallowing thickly, Logan couldn’t help but to lean into those hands, and the person attached to them. In their months together Roman had been there for him when no one else had, when he had felt abandoned, alone, or simply ignored, Roman had been there just as he was now. He had always been there, and as such he deserved the truth. The complete truth. 

“He was a hunter..my..my father.” He began as if that explained everything, and slowly he watched as Roman’s head bobbed in a nod. There wasn’t a single look of surprise on the elder vampire’s face, and for a moment Roman’s grip tightened just the slightest before a heavy exhale whistled out of those red painted lips of pure perfection and undead beauty. 

There was a look of deep sadness and undeniable relief that etched itself onto Roman’s face, and looking back at Logan, at his newest and most youngest fledgling that only ever continued to surprise him. Roman couldn’t help but to feel so damn relieved. “I know,” He finally whispered, the pad of his thumb stroking away a stray tear that clung to Logan’s cold cheek. “That’s why I’m here, I thought that..that..” Roman dared not to say it, but the instant pressure relieving itself from his shoulders was a given as he leaned in. His own tears clung to his lashes as he moved his arms around Logan clutching him, clinging to him holding him like he was everything. And he was, he most certainly was that. “I was so scared..I thought that..that you were…” 

_ Dead. _

The words were left unsaid, and even so, they both felt it as Logan’s fingers stained and bloodied fingers curled into Roman’s pristine white outfit. Neither of them needed to say it now, but in that moment of holding one another as close as could be, they both knew it. 


End file.
